


A Roll of the Dice

by LJ_McKay



Category: Calvin & Hobbes
Genre: F/M, High School, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 20:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12638742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LJ_McKay/pseuds/LJ_McKay
Summary: Susie asks Calvin for help on a homework assignment, and that's just the beginning of Calvin's weirdest day ever.





	A Roll of the Dice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BelaBoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelaBoo/gifts).



> Thanks to Prinzenhasserin for the beta!

_The intrepid Spaceman Spiff has crash landed on Planet Libzorg!  He emerges from the cabin of his craft, surveying the damage._  
  
_“Well, my galactic insurance premium just went up.”_  
  
_He drops catlike to the ground and unholsters his blaster to explore the terra incognita of this fearsome planet!  The air is dry and filled with a faint rustling, as if alien hordes lurk behind every bush waiting to ambush our hero.  Spiff moves silently across the landscape, a shadow in the dim twilight._  
  
_But what’s that on the horizon?  Could it be a native Libzorgian, come to finish Spiff off once and for all?  Could this be our hero’s doom?_  
  
_Nay!  Spiff readies his blaster and prepares—_  
  
A pile of books slammed onto the table in front of me, jerking me back to reality and a pair of blazing blue eyes.  
  
“This will _not_ be a repeat of the Mercury incident, capisce?”  
  
“I was _six_ ,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes.  “And you’ve started every project for the last ten years saying the same thing.”  
  
“And we haven’t had a repeat of the Mercury incident,” Susie returned matter-of-factly. “So.”  
  
I sighed, running my hand through my hair as I grabbed the top book off the stack: _The Mating Life of the Giant Squid_.  Susie squinted at me and did that thing with her mouth that meant she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure it was polite.  Or, since she was talking to me, worth it.  
  
“What,” I asked, paging idly through the book, which was entirely devoid of tentacle porn.  
  
“Nothing,” she said. I waited. “It’s just…” There it was. “ _When_ are you going to cut your hair?”  She said this all in a rush, like she was a balloon someone had just let go of.  
  
“My hair?” I looked up, surprised.  
  
She grabbed the next book off the stack. “Never mind.  Let’s get to work.”  
  
I was still baffled, par for the course with Susie, but I was distracted by the title of the book she was hiding behind: _Snail Sex_.  
  
“Uh, what is this project, exactly?”  
  
“It's for the reproduction unit in biology,” she explained, still not looking up from _Snail Sex_.  Her voice was steady but her forehead—all I could see of her face—grew steadily redder.  “I chose gastropods for us.”  
  
“Squid are cephalopods,” I mused, before it dawned on me.  “Susie!” I yelped. “You roped me into an _extra-credit_ assignment?”  
  
“Shhh!” she hissed, glancing around for the librarian. “Yes, okay?  My early decision Harvard application is due next month and I need to bring my bio grade up.”  
  
I rolled my eyes. “From an A to an A+?”  
  
“No, Mr. Smartypants,” she scowled. “I have a B.”  
  
My jaw dropped.  Susie Derkins, queen of the GPA, for once in our lives had a lower grade than me?  A slow grin spread from my mouth, up through my cheeks, and into my eyes, my eyebrows lowering as it went: my patented EvilGrinTM.  This was going to be rich.  
  
“So,” I said slowly, shoving as much charm and suavity into that one word as humanly possible. “You…need me.”  
  
Susie’s eyes narrowed, and I hesitated.  The words _Tracer Bullet_ and _femme fatale_ raced through my brain in quick succession and I questioned whether Susie was really someone I wanted to mess with.  
  
It was too much to resist. “I have some…conditions,” I continued, staring moodily out the window and hunching my shoulders as I shoved my hands in my pockets.  It would have been better if it was raining, and if the library had blinds, and if I was wearing a trench coat.  You make do with what you have.  
  
“Oh my God, Calvin, give it a rest!” Susie exploded, grabbing _The Mating Life of the Giant Squid_ and shoving it, _Snail Sex_ , and the rest of the books into her library bag.  (Yes, Susie Derkins has a special bag for the library, because of course she does.)  She stormed out of the library, flipping me the bird before running into the librarian and apologizing, blushing furiously.  
  
I turned back to the window.  “What a dame.”  
  
————  
  
_“*ksshh* Red Tiger, come in, Red Tiger. Jerry on your six.”_  
  
_“*ksshh* Copy that, command. Engaging evasive manoeuvers.”_  
  
_I pull back on the throttle, nodding to my navigator—a tall, orange-haired man with bushy white whiskers.  Bombs explode below us, lighting up the night sky as sirens wail.  I turn back toward the gunner to tell him—_  
  
I felt a sharp poke in my ribs and realized I was in fourth-period history.  The poke came again, this time accompanied by a soft hiss.  
  
“Calvin,” Tommy whispered.  “Wake up, dude.  Where’s Sue?”  
  
My brain was still dodging Nazis in the skies above London, so it took me a second to understand what he meant.  Sure enough, Susie was not in her seat in the front row, or anywhere else in the classroom.  I frowned.  Had she gotten sick after our meeting in the library?  
  
“Where is she?” Tommy repeated.  Of course he’d noticed her missing; he’d had a crush on Susie since eighth grade.  
  
I shrugged at Tommy to shut him up, but I was curious, too.  Susie yelled at me and flipped me off just about every other day, so I hadn’t thought anything of it.  But she never skipped class.  
  
I raised my hand impulsively.  Tommy stared, and so did Mr. Wilson a little bit.  Fair enough.  
  
“Uh, yes, Calvin?”  
  
“Could I visit the restroom please, sir?” I winced internally.  The “sir” was probably a bit much.  
  
Wilson frowned, but he was new this year.  He’d heard the stories about me, but hadn’t seen enough to believe them yet.  He nodded.  
  
I was careful to grab the bathroom pass as I left, and hell, I wasn’t _lying_.  I just hadn’t said which  restroom I was planning to visit.  
  
“Susie?” I called, closing my eyes as I cracked open the door to the girls’ room.  I’d never been in one— _that_ story wasn’t true—and I didn’t know if I was going to catch someone with her drawers down or what. “Susie, are you in here?”  
  
“Calvin?” Her voice was muffled and a little throaty.  Shit, she was _crying_?  This was shaping up to be the weirdest day ever, including the one when I’d ended up on the roof in my underwear.  I shuddered at the memory.  
  
“Calvin, what the hell are you doing in here?” Susie hissed, her head poking out of the handicapped stall.  
  
“Well, I’m not technically _in_ there,” I pointed out, kicking myself as her eyes narrowed dangerously.  I quickly stepped fully inside the bathroom, closing the door behind me and leaning against it to block any interlopers. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, no wisecracking.”  
  
She snorted. “Good luck.  I give you two minutes.  At the outside.”  
  
I smiled my most charming smile, the one that had had Candace Fenstrom following me around all last year, the one that had gotten me out of a couple of detentions with new teachers until they wised up.  
  
“Whatever, blondie,” Susie scoffed. “I’ve known you way too long for that to work on me.  What do you want?  I’m not doing your history homework for you.”  
  
“Too late.  Why’d you skip?” I asked bluntly.  
  
She blanched, her eyes widening almost comically.  “Oh my God, I missed history?  Shit!” And then she disappeared back into the stall with a loud sob.  
  
Weirdest.  Day.  Ever.  
  
I was pushing open the stall door almost before I realized I’d moved.  Susie was sitting on an overturned trash can, head buried in her hands, shaking.  This was unsettling.  Susie had always been a little neurotic, sure, but it usually manifested as manic homework output or anger—at least when I was around.  I’d never seen her so…vulnerable.  This was not my wheelhouse.  
  
“Uh…what’s wrong?” I stammered.  _Smooth_.  
  
“I’m losing it,” she cried. “I can’t keep up.  I’m trying so hard, but there’s too much, and I’m not competitive and I won’t get into college and I’ll never be a doctor.”  
  
“Are you crazy?  You’re the smartest kid here!”  
  
“Then why do I have to ask _you_ for help in bio?”  
  
“I just think the human body’s pretty cool, and I know a lot about tigers,” I shrugged. “You’re way better than me at everything else.  And you have that, y’know, drive or whatever that teachers are always talking about.” I paused. “Listen…I’m sorry about earlier.  I was playing out a private-eye fantasy; I didn’t mean—”  
  
“A fantasy?” she giggled.  I frowned.  Here I was, trying to be honest and apologize— “A _private-eye_ fantasy?”  She was outright laughing now.  
  
“Hey,” I started.  
  
“Hey, yourself, Dick,” she purred, batting her eyes at me in what I assume was an attempt at a Mae West impression.  (Susie had clearly never seen a Mae West film.)  She stood up and poked her finger playfully into my chest. “Can you help me…with my biology project?”  
  
“Quit it,” I protested weakly.  
  
“Make me, big man,” she taunted.  
  
Our eyes met and my breath caught in my throat.  Her eyes darted briefly downward, then back up, teasing melting from her face.  I swallowed, closing my eyes as she leaned forward…  
  
BANG!  
  
I jumped backward, barely stopped from falling through the stall door by Susie grabbing the front of my t-shirt.  She put a finger to her lips.  I nodded and held my breath as the other girl did her business, praying that she wouldn’t look under partitions into this stall.  I wouldn’t be too opposed to that rumor getting started, but I didn’t want Susie to be subjected to the slut-shaming double standard of the patriarchy.  
  
The girl flushed, washed her hands, and left, and Susie and I both laughed a little as we released the breaths we’d been holding.  She smiled and gave me a hug and a quick peck on the cheek.  
  
“Thanks, Calvin,” she said. “You always cheer me up.”  
  
“I thought I always drove you crazy.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “That, too.”

“Hey, what were you saying earlier about my hair?”  
  
She blushed. “Oh, nothing.  I just…it’s cute when it’s short.  I like the spikes.”  
  
I grinned as she fled the bathroom.  _Now there’s a girl worth fighting Nazis for_.  
  
————  
  
I slid my backpack off my shoulder with a sigh; it felt heavier every day.  Unzipping it, I heaved out the books I was supposed to use for homework and tossed them on my desk.  That should appease Dad for a little while.  I caught a glimpse of _Snail Sex_ peeking out from under _A History of the United States_ and sighed again.  Weirdest day ever.  
  
“I almost kissed Susie Derkins today,” I said to the room at large, definitely not looking at the top shelf of my bookshelf.  I paused, waiting for a response.  They came fewer and farther between these days, but I had a feeling he’d be pretty interested in this conversation.  
  
“Almost?” came the incredulous whisper, and I strained to hear it. “What stopped you?” It was getting louder, like tuning into a weak signal on the radio.  
  
“We were interrupted.”

“I always knew she’d be your bitsy pookums one day,” he sighed, and I could picture his soft paws clutched in front of his heart.  
  
“Gross!” I responded automatically.  
  
“Shnoogy woogy?”  
  
“It’s not…like that,” I insisted, not even convincing myself.  “She, uh…she said she likes my hair short.”  
  
“Ooh, can I cut it again?”  
  
“No!”  
  
“Fine,” he pouted.  
  
I blew out a breath from my bottom lip, ruffling my bangs.  I did _not_ want to ask him for this, but… “Can you help me write a poem?”  
  
I could see the cheshire-cat (well, cheshire-tiger) grin growing on his face.  He was such a romantic, always had been.  I was a decent poet but this…this needed something more.  
  
“You can take the tiger out of the game but you can’t take the heart out of the tiger!”  
  
“That doesn’t even make sense.”  
  
“You want my help or not?”  
  
I ground my teeth.  “Yes.”  
  
“Okay, then.  I’m going to need a Moleskine notebook, two fountain pens, some blotting paper, and an hour to think.”  
  
I almost turned around then, ready to pummel him, but I stopped just in time. “Seriously?  How about a ballpoint pen, a spiral-bound notebook, and fifteen minutes?”  
  
“My terms are my terms,” he said haughtily, and I remembered his stupid smock.  He wasn’t going to budge on this.  
  
————

_The mighty hunter stalks through the jungle, alert for any movement in the surrounding foliage.  The tuna fish sandwich he clutches is growing warm, and he begins to wonder if this is a fool’s errand._  
  
_But then—a flash of orange through the leaves ahead!  He slows, crouching almost to his belly in the undergrowth, breathing in the smell of earth and rotting leaves.  He slides forward, soundless, until he is gazing at the glorious beast in repose.  He hasn’t seen such a sight in a long time, and tears spring unexpectedly to his manly eyes._  
  
_The creature opens its eyes and stares directly at the hunter.  His breath catches.  Will it spring?   Devour him in several quick bites?  Or will it pass by and let him live to tell this transcendent tale?_  
  
_It stretches, opening its mouth in a wide yawn.  “I’m finished,” it says._  
  
_The hunter starts.  This wondrous animal was speaking to him?  Had he gone mad in his long pursuit?_  
  
_“I said I’m done!” it repeated, with more irritation in its voice._  
  
The notebook I’d stolen off Dad’s desk whacked me in the back of the head.  I snatched it up eagerly, hoping he’d produced something worth slipping into Susie’s locker.  Grinning at the familiar childish handwriting, I flipped through a few pages of cross-outs and scribbles before finding what looked like the finished product.  
  
I cleared my throat to read dramatically.  He liked his poems to be _performed_.  
  
“Susie Derkins, fair of face,  
You move upon this earth with grace.  
I gaze at thee, my heart aflutter—  
I, a creature from the gutter!  
You’ve known me since we were just six;  
I fear that puts us in a fix.  
You know my weaknesses and foibles,  
My antics cause your blood to boil.  
But here we are, it’s hit or miss:  
Susie, would you give a kiss?”  
  
“Well?” he demanded, when I was silent for a few seconds.  
  
“It’s…really good,” I admitted. “Thanks.”  
  
“It’s always best to leave matters of the heart to animals,” he said primly, and I could picture him stretching languidly. “You humans always get in your own way.”  
  
I couldn't argue with that.  I pulled out a fresh sheet of paper to copy the poem before I lost my nerve about this whole thing.  
  
“Now will you let me cut your hair?”  
  
————  
  
_Julius Caesar, in desperate need of a barber, approaches the bank of the Rubicon, eyeing the far side.  He imagines he can see Rome from here, though of course that is impossible.  Still, it might as well be on the opposite bank, he thinks; there will be no going back from this._  
  
_He folds a leaf into an aerodynamic shape, briefly pondering the advantages that could be gained on the field from some sort of flying machine before tossing the leaf elegantly across the river to test the wind.  As it floats gently into Italy, he mutters, “Here we go.”  No, that’s not quite right, he thinks, not enough oomph. “Allons-y?” he tries.  Too Gallic.  “Alia jacta est!”  Perfect.  Someone better write that down._  
  
“Mission accomplished,” I whispered over my shoulder as I walked quickly away from Susie’s locker.  
  
“Good luck, little buddy,” my backpack answered.


End file.
